Thinkin' Drinkin'
by Jhessill
Summary: Logan offers advice. A conversation from the frustrations of life.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own the X-Men in any way, shape, or form. I am not making money off this. Suing me would be pointless. X-Men belong to Marvel. Renegade and Tank are mine and I don't share.

This is something I was having a problem with and for some reason Logan of ALL people came to talk me through it. Thank goodness for hearing voices. No offense to Jackman, but I mean the cartoon Logan voice. Sorry Hugh.

"Drinkin' Thinkin'"

The bottle hit the counter with a dull thud… and was quickly followed by the sharp, empty rap of a shotglass. This was repeated twice more in rapid succession before the voice behind her asked its palpable question. "Why ya even bothering with the glass at all, Ren?"

"Cause it's impolite to drink from the bottle."

He acknowledged her response with a half head tilt that he knew she'd she see in the glass door in front of her. The darkness outside made it a perfect mirror. He reached for a beer as he spoke again. "True, but it's your bottle though."

Renegade turned her glazed ice blue eyes at her new companion and shrugged. "I'll shore… share, I mean."

Logan grunted in amusement. "No one else 'drinks'…"

She winced at the underlying implication of the word.

"…but you and I," he reminded her, "and I won't touch that cinnamon shit you drink."

"True dat," she replied. "Which is why I drink it."

This time, he winced. "You know I wouldn't."

She shook her head. "You know we both have," she countered. "At one point or another we've both emptied this place of all its alcohol – no matter whose it was."

He grunted, lit his cigar and took a deep drag on it before he spoke. "So, what's troubling you, kid?"

She rolled her eyes at the nomenclature. "I ain't been a kid in ages and even when I was, I wasn't allowed to be one."

"Ya dodgin' the question there, 'gade."

"You're asking the wrong one, Logs," she grumbled. "Life troubles me. Answers are always so damn elusive. I sit down to work them out and then chaos reigns and I'm no closer to the answers I seek than I was before I started."

The burly Canadian downed part of his beer as he listened. "You feelin' riddlely tonight, eh?"

She snorted as her shotglass hit the table again. "I'm workin' on not feelin' much at the moment," she confided. "'cept warm and tingly."

Logan started in on his second beer as silence washed over them. He knew she wouldn't judge his collection of bottles no more than he would judge her shot count. He did get up and retrieve and bag of pretzels – opening them and laying them between their seats.

She watched him as she continued to drink enough to keep her buzz going before she asked, "Why bother with them? We'll both be sober before we want to be… before we should ever have to be."

He took another drag on his cigar before he sat back down with a shrug. "Old habits," he decided.

Absently, Renegade grabbed a handful of the salty treats and munched on them. "At least they're not peanuts."

"Yeah, yeah , you don't particularly care for peanuts, I remember."

She nodded. "They do do in a… do do, ha!"

"In a pinch," he finished for her. Her bottle hit the table with a bit more of a thunk than a thud and he waited for her to focus on him again. "So, what keeps you up this evening?"

"Thinkin' drinkin'," she said with an air of 'duh' to it. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep," he responed.

The woman snorted in disbelief – and then winced as the cinnamon liquor burnt the inside of her nose.

Logan had the decency to offer a sympathetic chuckle. "Not believable?"

"Nope."

"Guess I knew you'd be needin' me tonight."

Renegade smiled sincerely at her longtime friend. "Now that's more honest… though I can't say I'll be much company."

"What caused you to fall off your wagon, Ren?"

She pulled her solid white gold band off her left ring finger and laid it on the table between them. "Life," she answered after a long moment of silence. "I finally think I have it under control and it goes all to hell-in-a-handbasket on me."

"What's going on between you and Tank this time," he asked. There was no resentment or sarcasm in his voice, just rough concern… as gentle as she'd ever seen the Wolverine be.

She shook her head and sighed. " I don't know. We're fine, fall all intents and purposes."

"But…?"

"But I feel like something's missing all of a sudden." She took another shot before she continued. "I mean, based on how I got here, I guess I was hoping for a fairy tale love story. I mean, why can't I have Cinderella or Rapunzel?"

"It's called Fantasy for a reason, 'gade. Reality is … all life has its good and bad. You can't please even one person all the time. And why would you want to? What fun… what interest… does life have if all you ever do is get along? Without a little 'blah', how can you appreciate the WOW!" He pointed to the ring that still lay between them. "How long have you worn that?"

"Three and a half years," she replied automatically.

"And the one around your heart?"

"Five years."

"Without that band, would the metal one even matter?"

Sighing, she picked up the band and studied it. "No," she said after a moment. She put the ring back down and poured another shot. "I feel like we're in a rut though."

Logan drank a swig of his beer and shrugged at her. "You might be, Ren, but you have the power to get out of it. You know Tank better than anyone here. You know what makes him tick and all that he does. Help him and in so you'll help yourself."

Renegade snorted into her short and looked him square in the eyes. "You sound like Jean- or hell, even Scott." She downed her shot.

Logan frowned at the comparison, but brushed it off. "You're fault. You needed a sage and I'm the closest one you got. You think Scott could keep up with you at the table, find him."

Renegade let out a hearty chuckle. "He'd have been drunk ten minutes ago."

"I do what I can for ya, gade."

Her smile faded. "Make him reasonable," she sighed. "A morning person. Make him understand that there's no such thing as a day off. Someone will always need something. Make him understankd that his growl-tude is not as endearing as he'd like to think."

"I said 'sage', darlin', not Anne Franks."

"Logan," she continued, "I try so damn hard to make home life perfect for us and yet never seem to meet his standards. I try to make sure the kids don't bother him. I try not to yell at all, but especially on mornings when he has the opportunity to stay a little later than usual. I seem to keep falling short of some unattainable standard that he has set for me." She paused in her rant to slam back to rapid shots and wipe her eyes. "I love him, but lately I don't feel like enough for him."

Logan finished his beer and sat back to study his companion. After a moment, he spoke – quietly. "Do you want to leave him?"

Renegade's head shot up to stare at the man across from her. "No!"

"Why do you love him, Renegade?"

She needed no time to think of a response. "There are a lot of little reasons," she replied. "He's hardworking, brave, smart, wise, and dedicated. He's a good guy with great morals." She gave Logan a lopsided smile. "His body is really great too. He looks good both in and out of uniform and in nothing at all."

With a roll of his eyes, the Canadian snuffed out his cigar stub and chuckled at the woman across from him. "I didn't need to know that, Ren."

"He's got eyes that drew me in right from the start. His voice is soft and deep, like the rumble of distant thunder… not frightening and you really have to listen for it. He's a bit of a movie buff and his music selections don't differ that much from mine. We like a lot of the same things. … We fit well together in 95% of all aspects." She sighed as she put her ring back on her finger. "I just wish his annoying bits weren't so…"

"Annoyin'?"

"Yeah."

"Love him as he is, Ren. If you try and change him…"

"Impossible," she snorted.

"…he'd not be the man you fell in love with in the first place."

"I know," she replied sincerely. "Thanks Logan."

"You're welcome, 'gade. Now go home. I'll take care of the mess."

She smiled at him and waved farewell over her shoulder and she left for home – feeling better for the reminder that even with the bad, life still had plenty of reasons to keep going.

~~Fin

Author's Note: Though Renegade got to leave; I still had to finish dinner. I have to admit though; I am glad I haven't outgrown the need or desire to write things out. I never know who will pop up to help me work through my issues. My thanks to the gruff Canadian.


End file.
